Who Stole Umbridges Pencil?
by NyxTheWolf
Summary: Trust me, it's a bad idea.     A prompted oneshot in an ongoing game.


**Who Stole Umbridge's Pencil?**

_Her reign of terror is too great to imagine. The old headmaster is gone now, and each day is worse than the last. Those who speak out of turn are subject to torture, pain and madness. I refer of course, to Dolores Umbridge. In her wake, evil horned demons that have crawled from the pits of hell are glad to scramble straight back to where they came from faster than a hippogriff that missed his five o'clock appointment with MacNair. Except for one horned demon who won't go back to hell, she'd rather stay at Hogwarts. You won't ever see her horns though. Trust me. _

_That's why she wears the silly pink hat. _

The plump, toad-like woman always emerged from around corners, inside suits of armour and once from Neville's wardrobe – although he admitted it could have been a sweater. She brandished her fat, stubby wand with her fat, stubby fingers, pointing it at anything she found unacceptable in her school. She expelled students as fast as Snape expelled insults about Harry. No, she expelled them faster than that.

Two people kissing? **Expelled.** Two people hugging? **Expelled.** Two people fighting, one of whom is swinging a medieval flail while the other is lying helpless and blood-soaked on the floor? **Carry on.**

Forever holding that blasted clipboard, ticking and crossing and ticking and crossing some more. Mrs Norris giving rabies to Fang the dog? **Tick. Good girl. **Fang biting the head off of Mrs Norris? **Cross. 10 points from Gryffindor. Bad dog. **

With Dumbledore gone and the Minister under her thumb, she had more control over the world than anybody else. I don't think anybody appreciates that, but Voldemort sure is extra pissed.

With a savage glare, Umbridge leered at four students as they passed her in the corridor. She was silent, and could not find a reason to apprehend them. She let them go, for now. When she was safely out of earshot, Ronald Weasley spoke.

"I really can't stand her, she is so damn evil!" He said, checking over his shoulder for members of the accursed Inquisitorial Squad.

"I thought she was bad before, but now she really is the limit." Harry replied scornfully.

"I'm never one to disrespect a teacher, you know that." Hermione said when Harry and Ron looked at her with expectance. Hermione sighed. "But I know what you mean, she is really horrible."

"Horrible?" repeated Ron. "Horrible? That's the best you can do?"

A red-headed girl checked behind them again, paused and then shouted. "Oh she is a right bitch!"

"Nice one Ginny, I really felt your rage and loathing." Ron replied.

"You know the worst thing?" Harry said, fiddling with his wand idly. "I used to look forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, me too." Ron sighed. Hermione nodded.

"I wish somebody else would prank her as well as Fred and George did. Her face was priceless! I thought she was going to kill somebody."

A blood curling shriek then sounded from the floor above them. It was chilling, murderous and unmistakable. Umbridge's office was above them, and they were the only students around for ages now. Everybody else would be at dinner.

"Looks like somebody already did." Harry said, starting to walk. "Come on, let's get out of here. If she finds us we'll get the blame."

They all nodded, and followed him down the stairs.

Upstairs, the screaming continued. "_CORNELIUS!_" Umbridge wailed. "_**CORNELIUS FUDGE!**_" With a roar, emerald flames burst from the fireplace and a man wearing a lime green suit edged gingerly out.

"Y-yes Madam Umbridge?" He asked, not looking her directly in the face. Instead, he addressed one of the kittens on her wall.

"Look at me, you spineless cretin!"

Fudge turned to look at her. She was a deep crimson colour and her eyes seemed to burn with the wrath of hell. He drew breath and spoke. "What is the problem, headmistress?"

She slammed a chubby fist down onto her desk. "Somebody has stolen my pencil!"

Fudge just looked at her.

"My pencil," She said between rage fuelled sobs, "Has been stolen!"

"Stolen?" He managed to ask, still flabbergasted.

"Yes, you silly little man, stolen! My pencil!"

Fudge peered at her desk. "But you have four pencils on your desk."

"BUT NONE OF THOSE ARE GREEN!" She shrieked and pulled out chunks of her hair. "My pencil is green."

Fudge frowned. "But why is it green?"

Umbridge picked up her portrait of the minister, and launched it out of the window. "Because green means yes!" She slammed the desk with her left fist. "Red means no!" She picked up her red pencil and brandished it like a sword.

"Okay, okay, green pencils aren't hard to come by. I'll simply get you another-"

"BUT I DON'T WANT ANOTHER! I WANT MY PENCIL!" She screamed and pulled off her hat revealing two stubby little horns which sat on the top of her head. They were bone coloured, and sharp as razors. She threw her hat to the floor, glared at it, and it burst into flames. She picked up her desk and held it above her head, all the while roaring and screaming.

Her pink robes ripped at the seams, and fell to the ground in pieces. Blood red muscles grew from all over her, until any fragment of the stubby little witch who stood in the room had been replaced by this roaring demon. Her horns grew by another few inches, and turned dark red.

Fudge backed into a corner, hugging his own knees for dear life. "Holymother of Merlin, that's impossible!" He breathed, looking away. A pair of glowing green eyes rested upon the cowardly man, sitting in the corner. The Umbridge demon snarled and looked away. In a booming, rasping voice which could only belong to such a demon, she spoke.

"Useless!" She spat, turning away. With a click of her clawed fingers, a cage of disgusting creatures appeared in her hand. Fudge turned away, he didn't dare to look at what might be eating him shortly. She hung the cage onto a hook above her window, and spoke to the creatures. "FIND THE ONE WHO STOLE MY PENCIL! FIND THEM AND BRING THEM TO ME!" She boomed, and the three leathery birds nodded their beaks obediently.

Umbridge ripped apart the cage with her claws, and crumpled the metal like breadsticks. "FLY MY PRETTIES, GO FORTH AND FIND THE SORRY CREATURE WHO DARES TO STEAL MY BELOVED PENCIL!" She then rounded on Fudge. "You. You good for nothing fleshy vessel. You pitiful, pathetic mortal. I ought to destroy you now. But what good would it do?" She extended a long and muscled arm, and pointed at him with her clawed hand. As though grabbed by a rope, he was lifted.

"You will go now to the ministry and act as though none of this happened. You will keep my existence a secret, Fudge. Do you understand?" She snarled and growled. He looked into those glowing green eyes and nodded. She grabbed him by the throat now. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" She screamed, shaking him slightly.

"Y-y-yes, oh dark and evil devil demon headmistress! I understand, I won't tell a soul of your existence I promise, yes, yes I promise!" He bumbled wildly; attempting to grab any part of her he could to relieve the pressure on his neck. She dropped him casually and unfolded her wings.

"Good, that's right Fudge."

He whimpered and covered his face.

"Get out of my office, now." She said slowly and clearly.

He didn't need telling twice. He grabbed a clumsy handful of Floo powder, dropped the whole pot and then sobbed; "M-ministry of Magic, m-ministers office!" With a blaze of green fire, he vanished.

A snarl emanated from her snake-like demonic nostrils, and she began to shrink. Her horns turned white again, and her skin became paler and softer. She grabbed her wand from the corner, and summoned new robes to wear. She repaired her desk and her window, then sat down and poured some tea. She sighed, and then smiled. Two large fangs were shrinking back down to their normal size. She sipped her tea and sat back.

_I suppose I shouldn't have taken it, looking back now. A man is scared for life and I am going to be forever hunted by the evil demon Umbridge. But I can't help it, I'm addicted. Pranking people is such fun; I couldn't imagine a world where a good practical joke doesn't exist. I knew it was her favourite pencil, I knew it would be missed. But as I write this ransom note from my cave with the firelight guiding my brand new green pencil, I stop to appreciate the finer things in this world. The things that may not be sought after by many, but to the individual they are precious. _

_My name is Albus Dumbledore._

_And I stole Umbridge's pencil. _


End file.
